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“You could have been killed,” Molly laid into Erin first chance they got. They were whispering, but it was heated, and it was obvious she was very angry and upset. The children had been asleep for a while, worn out by their own activities that day. Erin would have liked to have gone right to sleep but knew it wasn’t possible until Molly got everything out of her system. The rain came down in earnest on the canvas of the tent.
“Yes, I could have, but we needed our cattle,” she insisted, defending herself. She hadn’t wanted to cause Molly worry, but this trip alone was a worry.
“We didn’t need the sheep,” she countered.
“No,” she said agreeably, “we didn’t need the sheep, but I thought I should get them while I could. It was a good thing too, since I could come up behind them Indians.”
“Those,” she corrected automatically, irritated that Erin could talk well when she wanted to. She guessed she just had to concentrate.
“I am sorry for the worry, Molly. I did what I thought I had to do.”
“What would I have done left all alone with five children if you had gone out and gotten killed?” The thought was choking her throat as she held back the need to cry.
“You would have buried me and gone on with them. You’re a survivor, Molly. You don’t need me to survive.” She’d realized that fact a long time ago and made peace with it.
“I need you,” she stated begrudgingly, still angry. “I can’t do this alone.” She sounded frightened at the thought.
“Whatever God has planned for us–” she felt the surprise in Molly’s gasp, “Yes, God,” she repeated. “Whatever he or she has planned for us, we are gonna do this together. I could have died a couple of times today through the stupidity of others. And yes, through my own foolishness. None of that matters now. I got what I set out for, and even with the animals we lost, we are still out ahead. None of the children were hurt, thank God.”
Molly had to concede she was right. She wasn’t burying her husband or any of her children. The funerals were going to be held first thing in the morning for those killed in the attack and the ensuing commotion. They’d just pulled the bodies into wagons and traveled on yesterday rather than take the chance that the Indians would return. It was sad enough that good women had lost their men, but the mother who had lost her child was inconsolable, and Molly was grateful it wasn’t them. She clutched suddenly at Erin, determined to feel her against her body in the night, if only for a moment. She needed to assure herself that she was alive, that she was real.
“Oh, God. I could have lost you today,” she started to sob. She couldn’t hold it back anymore.
“Molly, Molly, my Molly,” Erin crooned in return, her nose nuzzling in the woman’s hair as she caressed her, responding to that need.
Molly’s hand slipped inside Erin’s long johns, seeking and finding the spot she sought. The wetness told her of Erin’s need, and she started to play as she kissed her wife passionately. She needed to dominate her, if only for a moment. As Erin’s crisis approached, she threw her head back to gasp in the air, and they were both breathing hard when they heard it...
“Ma? Can I sleep with you?”
“Theresa, you get yourself back in your tent and don’t come out until I call you in the morning, or I’m going to give you such a spanking. You can’t sleep with us every night. Now, get!” They both heard the rustling in the grass as the little girl rushed to obey and returned to the other tent. The rain had to have soaked the small girl in the time she’d been out in it. “Now, where were we?” murmured Molly, her hand never leaving the long johns.
“I don’t think–” began Erin, but she was silenced by Molly’s kisses, her silky, soft tongue plunging inside her mouth to shush her, her warm hand moving again. It was such a tease, the release had been right there, and now, they had to build it up again. She was so tired, but she needed this. Molly had started the need in her and...and...and...she came, wanting to yell out at conquering the mountain she had climbed.
Molly held on for dear life, feeling the convulsions in Erin’s body as she came. She kissed her deeply even though she could feel the blood had left her wife’s now icy-cold lips that had gone slack. She captured the yell in her own mouth, muffling it so no one could hear as she came. Smiling, she slowed her actions until the shudders stopped in the body beneath her own. She was surprised when Erin suddenly rolled them both over, trapping her against the edge of the tent. “No, you don’t have to–” she began, but Erin was suddenly kissing her passionately, grinding her body against her, pulling the nightgown up, so they could feel skin against skin. Molly loved the feel of Erin’s hands against her skin.
Erin scooted down as she raised the skirt of the gown. She needed, she sensed they both needed, to feel this intimacy. She scented her wife long before she tasted her, and it was like honey to a bee. She wanted her so much that she plunged her face between her woman’s legs. She relished the gasp as Molly clutched at the back of her head, pulling her close as she ground against her. Her clit was hard as rock, and she licked around it. She teased it at first, but Molly threatened to pull out the hair on her head, and she plunged her tongue and mouth around it, sucking, licking and nuzzling. Molly ground deeper, harder against Erin’s face. The feel of Molly’s pelvic bone against her face was painful, but Erin wasn’t going to stop; she wasn’t going to let this opportunity go. She plunged her finger inside: one...two...and then a tight third as she fucked her wife to completion.
Molly couldn’t believe it. It had been so long since Erin had given her this indulgence. With the children around, it hadn’t seemed feasible. She knew that was the reason for the tents, but even then, they had frequently been sharing with one of the children, which was not conducive to this form of intimacy. Oh, God. The fullness of Erin’s fingers combined with her tongue and hot mouth around that spot...she was going mad, she was going insane, and she didn’t mind in the least as her hands fisted the mattress and blankets. When Erin reached up to squeeze a breast and paid special attention to a nipple, she tried to be quiet. She knew sound carried in the still of the night, but her gasps probably gave away their intimacies as she bucked against her wife’s face. She only hoped the sound of the rain masked their lovemaking.
Slowly, Erin cleaned off every bit of her wife’s crisis, licking it with relish from her wife’s warm body and then, from the fingers that were soaked with it when she pulled them out. She knew Molly couldn’t see her, but she had to hear her tongue lapping up the moisture. It was so uniquely Molly.
Kissing Molly, she pulled her closer to the middle of the mattress and tucked her in. Molly made sure her nightgown was down instead of around her middle. She could taste herself on her wife’s lips but didn’t mind. She was wishing she could taste Erin. Remembering her own fingers, she brought them up to her lips, her nose taking in the odor that was uniquely Erin. Since they needed to keep Erin from being seen, this meant she couldn’t bathe as often as she had done back at their farm. She smelled ripe, but it was an honest odor...sweat, hard work, and something exclusively Erin. She wanted to taste it, a tiny curl of desire rose in her again, but she knew Erin wouldn’t allow it; she would want to be clean there for Molly before they did that ever again.
Exhaustion claimed them both, and they were surprised that morning came so soon. Erin pulled on her pants, smiling in the predawn light at Molly snoring slightly, her mouth agape in her relaxation. As she shimmied into her shirt, she could smell the sweat on it and hoped that their day of rest came soon, so they could wash clothes. Her other shirt was even worse with the sweat and dirt of the trail. As Erin put on her boots, Molly woke with a slight snort, sharing a smile at the intimacies they had shared the previous night.
“You okay?” she asked huskily, referencing the happenings of the previous day.
“I’m fine, and you?” she answered, pulling her other boot on after knocking it out...one never knew what could have crawled into the boots the previous night.
“I could laze the morning away in bed,” Molly stretched, her firm, young breasts making an impression against her nightgown, stopping Erin from stamping on her boot for a moment.
Erin was certain that had been deliberate, and she didn’t mind. She was just glad they were here, together, and no one in their little family had been seriously hurt. The mare would heal. They had lost some of their stock, but they were all alive, and that was a good thing. She stamped her boot on and unfastened the tent.
Molly watched Erin’s back as she left the tent. She really needed a haircut if she was going to keep up the premise of being a man. Although she didn’t see Erin’s face the way strangers did, she knew the intimate side of this amazing woman. Strangers saw a thin man, who they thought weak until they got to know him. Yesterday had shown them he wasn’t weak at all. She began to hurriedly dress.
Erin quickly built up their fire, the small canopy above it fending off the rains. She moved the coffee pot closer to the coals, checking to see there was water in it and pouring some more from the nearby bucket. She went to the wagon for more buckets as a stretching and yawning Tabitha crawled out of the other tent. Both Queenie and King’s tails thumped out a greeting to their people. Erin stared at King for a while, seeing none of the signs she had yesterday. His eyes looked clear and steady. She’d take it easy on him for another day, but he would want to work.
“Morning,” she said to Tabitha, who took two of the buckets from her.
“Morning,” she said back, her hair all askew. Erin made a mental note to buy the girl a brush of her own. Sharing with her siblings on something so feminine couldn’t be easy.
“Gosh, I’m hungry,” Theo said as he came up. “I’ll get the cows,” he quickly offered, wrapping his jacket tighter around him in the chill of the morning air as the rain began to thin.
Erin began taking down her and Molly’s tent. Molly had already rolled up the bedroll and placed it in its spot in the wagon. Theo had two of the cows tied off by the wagon at that point, and she took a three-legged stool she used for milking to get started on the first cow. Tabitha squatted, the pail between her legs, and started on the other.
“C’mon, you lazy slug-a-beds...get up,” Molly cajoled the three children in the tent. “You’re wasting the day! I’ve got to get the tent down for your pa and put your bed in the wagon.” She returned to fixing breakfast after gathering the eggs the birds had laid and slipping them some seed to peck at before Erin hung up their cages.
Slowly, they got their morning started. Erin felt a little stiff from the events of the day before. She saw others getting their day started, greeting those who were friendly and ignoring those who were not. She and Molly walked a little way out on the prairie, so they could both pee and poop. Others were not so careful or modest. Erin appreciated Molly standing guard as there had been a few close calls. A couple times, she hadn’t felt well from her period or her food not setting right. Having to take an emergency shit when others were around meant the opportunity for discovery was greater. She was relieved when they could return to the wagon and finish their morning chores.
Pouring the milk through the straining cloths, she noticed Molly skimming off the butter in the chug-a-lug, taking out buttermilk for breakfast, and feeding some to both the cats and dogs before closing it tightly.
“Do you want this for breakfast or in the chug-a-lug?” she asked.
“Let’s give this,” she indicated the pails of clean milk, “to the neighbors. We have plenty, and I can’t keep up on all the butter.”
Erin smiled. She was pleased they had too much instead of too little. “Why don’t you do that, and I’ll finish the breakfast?”
Molly smiled her thanks as she picked up the pails to offer some to their neighbors, who gratefully accepted. Their children played with the Herriot children whenever possible, but there did seem to be a lot more chores in their household. More than one neighbor benefited from the excess milk. The cows were in their prime, and the Herriots could only drink so much milk.
Breakfast that morning was scrambled eggs, bacon, and the last of the bread from Molly’s last baking. Erin made a good bread too but hadn’t had the time in a while. She was thinking about the next day when the wagon train would stop for an entire day—they’d do the wash, she might mix up a batch of bread to bake in the Dutch oven, and the children would have time to play like the others their age.
“Herriot, you want to help us dig the graves?” a voice asked as they approached.
Erin looked up, surprised. She had been so deep in thought she hadn’t heard them. “I’ve got to get my poultry and children sorted. I’ll come over after that,” she offered, knowing they would probably be done by then.
They nodded as they walked away, shovels on their shoulders.
She thought about those who had died and was sorry for them. She wondered what had happened to the young man who shot off his gun and started the stampede. But it wasn’t her lookout, it was Wallace’s and his men’s. She hoped they weren’t too hard on the man, but he had been very foolish indeed. It had not only cost them good men and a child, but the Indians had altered their course to attack them. That was a heavy burden for anyone to carry on their shoulders. She was quiet as she ate breakfast with her family, helping Timmy, so he wouldn’t make a mess. He did anyway, but he was a lot better at managing a spoon now and managed to shovel in his share of his food. Washing up, the children helped make sure everything was put away as Molly and Erin hooked the poultry cages on the side of the wagon.
“Whew, these are stinking,” Molly mentioned as her face came close to one of the grassy nests.
“We could change the hay in them next stop,” Erin mentioned. “I’ll have to remind the children to gather some.” Both sides of the wagon held the cages, and she checked that they were hooked firmly on the box, smiling at Molly for a job well done. She saddled the stallion and got him sorted, slipping him a treat as she patted his side. He was turning into a good horse. She looked over the mare’s wound and saw where Molly had applied some sort of salve. She looked up and noticed a second storm was moving in. They’d ride in the rain today.
Suddenly, they heard the screams of a distraught woman. They, along with many others in the train, ran to the source of the commotion. Erin removed both of her rifles from their scabbards, slipping one to her back as she checked to see her pistol was in her waistband.
“Marty killed himself,” the whispers started and made their way through the crowd that had gathered.
“Who’s Marty?” Erin whispered to Molly, who had Timmy on her hip.
“The man that shot off the gun yesterday and startled the herd,” she answered back.
Erin started to pull Molly back. They didn’t need to see this, and the crowd’s muttering was bothering her. She saw the children had run with all the adults and she started to gather them as well. “We don’t need to see this,” she told them aloud, turning them around.
Others took their children away too.
The funerals were held right before they started out that morning. The overzealous preacher would have dragged it out, but Wallace signaled to him, and he abruptly cut it short. They all watched as the families of those killed looked on in shock. The worst was the mother who had lost her son.
“It’s a shame. It was all so unnecessary.”
“Marty took it hard,” Molly commented in return as they made their way back to their wagon.
“It was a lot to be responsible for,” she agreed, remembering her earlier thoughts.
As they approached their wagon, they found King and Queenie growling at a stranger, the pups at their sides, imitating their parents. King was ready to attack the man, who looked as though he had been about to hit the dog with the staff he was carrying.
“This your dog?” he asked as they approached.
“My dogs, my wagon, my stock. Who are you?” Erin replied.
“I was just looking for something to eat,” he answered warily, holding up his hands to show he had nothing in them.
Erin wasn’t fooled. That staff was well-worn, and the man probably used it well. “Around here we ask, we don’t just take, and I ain’t...don’t have extry. I have a passel of children to feed,” she said, watching the man just as warily. The gun she held in one hand and the gun on the sling across her shoulders warned the man, but the dogs worried him more; they were all teeth.
“Okay, okay. No harm intended,” he said, trying to back away, the chickens now squawking too.
Molly had started lifting the children into the wagon, but she took the time to pull the shotgun out and deliberately checked its load. The man got the hint and began to back away and begin walking towards the milling herd in the middle of the wagon circle. The cattle were up and ready to go, chewing their cud as they finished culling the grass while they had the chance. He disappeared between them as he made his way.
“Hey,” Erin called as one of Wallace’s lieutenants was about to ride by.
“Yeah, Herriot. What do you need?”
“There was a man here. I don’t think he’s with the wagon train. I haven’t seen him before.” She turned to Molly for confirmation and her wife shook her head when Erin asked, “Have you?” She turned back to the rider. “He was trying to steal something from my wagon, but my dogs stopped him,” she thumbed at the dogs, who were looking where the man had gone.
“I’ll take a look,” he promised.
“He’s armed with a staff,” she mentioned, and the man laughed.
“I don’t think I need to worry much,” he patted his rifle.
“You ever seen a stick fighter or someone wielding a staff?” she asked, and he suddenly looked startled at her observation.
“Thanks for the heads-up.” He shared an understanding nod with Herriot and went on his way, looking for the man she had mentioned.
“Pa, you want me to take down the fold?” Theo asked.
“Yep, let’s get at it,” she said as she slipped one of her rifles in the scabbard on the stallion and wondered what the man had been after.
Molly scooped up both puppies, realizing as she handed them to Tommy and then to Theresa how long-legged they were becoming. Timmy was already playing with the kittens, and she saw two of their cats had returned from their nightly prowls. They seemed to know when they needed to be in the wagon if they didn’t want to be left behind. She’d also seen them teach the children not to play too hard with the kittens, slapping back at them with their claws retracted. If it got too rough, their claws came out. More than one of the children had sported an occasional scratch but learned from it. Two other cats looked on sleepily, already tucked in for the day.
Erin pulled the posts back and forth to loosen them from the earth as Tabitha took up the rope around their temporary fold. It kept the sheep away from the cattle and gave them a sense of safety, even if it wasn’t that strong. She felt bad for the couple of sheep she had lost but was grateful it wasn’t the ram. She glanced over at the milling cattle that sensed they were about to get underway. She saw Billy and heard him sound off as he did every morning, knowing he was just clearing his throat and letting his cows know he was about and there for them. He’d already gotten into one or two fights with the other bulls in their small herd, but his five-foot horn span ensured they knew he was top bull. She’d seen him service a couple of cows that weren’t theirs, but there was nothing she could do about that, she certainly couldn’t charge the owners of those cows. She returned to the task at hand as Tabitha and Theo began to take the posts to the back of the wagon and hand them to Tommy and Theresa to put them in their spots.
“Here you go,” Erin said as she lifted the heavy rope and put it away herself.
“Can I ride with you today, Pa?” Tabitha asked. “I think the stallion’s getting stronger,” she pointed out hopefully. She didn’t want to be stuck in the wagon, not today.
“It’s going to be a wet ride,” she warned, pointing at the clouds rolling in. She’d been surprised that it hadn’t rained all that much last night when she saw the storm on the horizon.
“I don’t mind, if you don’t mind,” she admitted with a smile.
“I wish I could ride the mare,” Theo lamented. “How long until we can again, Pa?”
“Give her time to heal. A few days and–”
“Herriot?” someone approached them. She looked up at being addressed.
“Bishop’s the name. Wallace mentioned you had some Indian bows and arrows and knives. I have an extra saddle that would fit your mare,” he nodded towards the unsaddled mare that was tied behind the wagon.
“Could I look at it later?” she asked with a smile. “Looks like we’re getting underway. Wouldn’t want to hold anyone up.”
“We’re at the front of the wagon train today,” Theo boasted. They rotated that privilege, so that no one was slighted.
“Well, you’ll be walking with the sheep and Queenie,” Erin reminded him, and he lost the delighted smile and then grinned. He didn’t mind the walk too much, and he’d trade off with Tabitha at some point.
“Yeah, I’ll look for you at the nooning. Maybe we can make a trade?”
“Sounds good. I’ll look for you,” she nodded as the man waved and walked away. She looked around. The campfires were out, and the grass was either cut, eaten, or already worn down from the overnight stay of all the people and animals. She saw Queenie and King waiting for her as she mounted the stallion. Molly had already climbed aboard and was waiting for a signal to start the line. As she got it, she called to the horses and oxen by name, her whip unfurling over their backs, cracking sharply in the air as they started to pull on their harnesses and yokes. The wagon pulled away from their campsite and Erin looked for anything they may have missed, laughing as the pig and her remaining piglets rushed to get in their places under the end of the wagon and far enough ahead of the mare that was tied back there. The next wagon in line immediately started to get behind Molly, then the next and the next. Erin nodded to Theo, who called to Queenie, and the two of them started the sheep out to the side of the train, trying to keep up with Molly’s wagon at the head.
“Pa?”
Erin looked around, stopping her daydreaming when she realized Tabitha was waiting for her to help her up on the horse. Removing her foot from the stirrup, she leaned down to give the girl a boost. Tabitha used the stirrup to get up but once on the horse she kicked free of it, so Erin could put her boot back. She looked down and saw King was waiting almost as expectantly as Tabitha had. She smiled. “Feeling better, boy?” He was smiling and his tail thumped. He knew she was speaking to him. “Just a little while more, boy,” she cautioned him, intending to make sure she was one of those herding the cattle today. She waited quite a while, the stallion fidgeting under her as they waited for the slow-moving wagons to get into line. She and several others started the herd after the wagons, and she and Tabitha both stared at the graves as they passed. Someone had put up two twigs in the sign of the cross on the boy’s grave. It was a sad testament to what had occurred the previous day.